by Annie Kagan
As I stand before my Goddess, my appearance is changing. I'm getting taller and thinner, and overall I'm looking more like her. I call her my Goddess because somehow she is mine.
For the first time, my Goddess moves her perfect ruby lips. Hers is the intoxicating flute-like voice I've been hearing all along. She sings me her name: Shvara. It fills me like a mysterious perfume I have been forever seeking.
Shvara smiles a smile so gorgeous and powerful, if there could be a smile like that on earth, all war would end and everyone would stop what they're doing and go feed the hungry children. It is that powerfully good. I'm not sure I could have withstood the power of that smile before this moment.
Then, my Goddess sings me her full name: Shvara Lohana.
Do I really belong to the same tribe as this magnificent Goddess? I try to control myself but have to ask, “Does that mean I will be with you forever?”
Her smile dazzles me. “In this dimension, forever is longer than you can imagine.”
I admit that sounded disappointing, but she didn't exactly say no, right?
This time, hearing Billy through my crown chakra opened its petals into a lush flower. As Shvara's beauty entered my soul, my heart beat so fast I thought it might burst. Instead, it melted like a burning candle, filling me with molten grace.
I searched the Internet to see if the name Shvara had any meaning. I was fascinated to learn that Shvara is the short form of I-shvara, a Sanskrit word, Sanskrit being the sacred language of ancient India. So Billy's description of Shvara as an Indian goddess wasn't a coincidence.
What delighted me the most, though, was discovering that in Hindu tradition Shvara means Supreme Lord. And when Shvara takes on a feminine form, she is no less than the Supreme Goddess, the one and only Goddess above all others.
Was Shvara Lohana an actual Divine Being or a vision Billy was having? Was she his personal God or was she God? Is God actually a goddess?
THIRTY-TWO
Parade of Souls
The very next morning, as the songbirds chatted away and the spring air filled with sweetness. . .
Shvara Lohana turns and a building surrounded by haze appears where she is looking. Did she create it with her gaze? I don't think it was there before. I'm excited because I haven't seen any buildings at all since I died. As the haziness clears, I can see that the building is pearly white and has huge columns in the style of Greek or Roman architecture. It's so enormous it seems to have no beginning or end, and it isn't solid. It ripples. A bridge is forming from where we are up to the White Building, so I guess that's where we're headed.
All this is wondrous, so very wondrous, and it's even more so because I'm completely and utterly in love. I can't be sure, because my memories are gone, but I think I loved a lot of women in my time. I am sure, though, that what I'm feeling for Shvara is something else altogether. I think it's called Divine love. If I were here with Jesus or Buddha or any other Supreme Being, I probably would be feeling a lot of love for them too, but whoever picked Shvara Lohana sure made it easy.
Making exotic dance movements with her hands, my Goddess floats up the bridge. I follow her with complete devotion. As she glides ahead, her unimaginably graceful feet captivate me. I could spend an eternity just looking at them. They're not just beautiful; they're benevolent and intelligent, just like the rest of her.
Shvara looks back at me, smiling. I'm so glad to be here, to rest from the work done on earth, and follow my Goddess towards the White Building. As we get closer, I see there are an endless number of bridges that lead up to it. And for the first time since I've been on this side of things, I see people, like me. Each one is walking up his or her own bridge towards the White Building. We aren't really people anymore, we're souls. Each soul resembles its floating Tribe Leader.
As the souls cross their bridges, we give each other a nod in passing, but if they're feeling anything like I am, all their attention is on their Leader. I'm trying to notice what I can for you. It's very unusual that I'm able to report these events, so treat this information as sacred. Whether or not we can put this in our book, I will let you know.
The Tribe Leaders are Beings that don't exist on earth, and each one of them is extraordinary. They all have the same golden light around their heads. Some are great warriors with shields and swords and superpowerful bodies. Some Leaders look kind of plain and humble except for their enormous jewel-colored auras that are more than ten times bigger than they are. Some look scholarly and carry parchment scrolls that unravel and trail behind them. One Tribe Leader has fluorescent orange hair and is riding a gigantic red lion, or maybe he is part lion. I can't tell. Another Leader seems to be a mix of man, dolphin, and sun.
There are Tribe Leaders who I'd describe as gorgeous goddesses, like Shvara. I'm so lucky my Leader is who she is. But I'm guessing everyone feels lucky, like they have the right one.
There's a rhythm and a sense of wild celebration to this spectacle. It's as if we were all meant to be here at this time and have been rehearsing our parts for all eternity.
Shvara Lohana has been humming softly as we ascend my bridge. I am in love with her like I've never been in love. I wish you could hear my Goddess singing:
We are the dream of the Universe
We are the whim of the Infinite
The breath and the breather
The enemy and the friend
If this is illusion
I'll bow to it
Ava lo ke tash shvara
Ava lo Tara
Ava lo ke tash shvara
Ava lo Tara
Shvara's song fills me with what I will so inadequately call compassion. I feel such tenderness for the parade of souls walking toward the White Building. Each had their own story, their own struggles, their own pathway that led them here.
How noble is the journey of each human being, from Divine to dust and back again. How brave to enter a body and dance the dance of existence only to lose everything imagined to be true in the moment of death.
As we approach the top of the bridge, my consciousness is crystal clear. I am ready, but I do not know for what.
When Billy started softly chanting the words to Shvara Lohana's song, I was spellbound. I thought he was speaking some kind of celestial language and would tell me the meaning later. But when the song was over, he asked me to do another Internet search.
The lyrics I hadn't understood were, again, actual Sanskrit words. This time they were the names of Bodhisattvas, Enlightened Beings whose mission is to assist humanity. Avalokiteshvara is the Bodhisattva of compassion and Tara is his consort. Tara sprang from a tear that fell from the eye of Avalokiteshvara as he wept for the suffering of humanity. After Billy heard Shvara's song, he also seemed to be sharing in the compassion of Avalokiteshvara.
When I told Guru Guy about these names, he told me more about the hand-painted scroll he had brought me from Tibet. It had been hanging on the wall beside my bed for the last three years. The pearlescent, four-armed, lotus-postured, goldencrowned figure enthroned in a rainbow of pink lotus flowers was, in fact, Avalokiteshvara.
“But you told me it was Chenrezig,” I said.
“Chenrezig is the Tibetan name for Avalokiteshvara.”
THIRTY-THREE
The Archway
June was exploding with color when the window to my brother's world opened once again.
When Shvara and I reach the top of the bridge, I no longer see the others; they have gone a different way. We are standing in front of an archway built into the stone wall of the White Building. The stones wave and give off an iridescent sheen, as if they are coated with mother of pearl. They're so weathered they look like they've been there since the beginning of time. Maybe they have. The wall itself is so huge I can't see the top. But the archway is narrow and only a bit taller than Shvara Lohana. It isn't the stones’ color or the archway that holds my attention, though. It's the Lohana wisdom formulas carved into the stones.
My Goddess leads me to the
shimmering wall. She holds her delicate hands a few inches from the stone and invites me to do the same. This is the closest I've been to her, and to my surprise, I am filled with knowledge instead of desire. Dust cascades into the archway as my own wisdom formulas etch themselves into the wall. Four equations and my name inscribe themselves into the stone. What a moment this is! And although I don't remember how I wrote my formulas, I do understand their wisdom.
My Goddess gave me counsel for the wisdom formulas I wrote during my lifetime. She allowed me to go to earth and then to return here. Like children, we go out to have adventures in the world. It is a privilege and worth the difficulty. But know that the benevolent kingdom to which I have returned lies beyond the dream of the world.
As the stone dust clears from the archway, Shvara confers on me a blessing. Hotep! Hotep! In the area of my third eye, I have a satisfaction so mystical there are no words to describe it. I can't help but call out to her in return, Hotep!
Now I hear it—the voices of my tribe, thousands of familiar beatific voices, coming from inside the archway. They're singing praise to me. This praise isn't a vain thing. It's praise for my soul that has made the human journey and praise for my return home. Memories, forgotten memories of my spiritual family, are waking up, beckoning me into the archway. Their song pulls me into the passageway and as I enter, the light in the archway obliterates my vision. The only thing that exists for me is the chorus of mystical voices. I do not see them; I only hear my tribe's joyful singing welcoming me back, like Mahler's Eighth.
What? Mahler's Eighth? What kind of clue was Billy giving me now? Had Gustav Mahler written an eighth symphony? And if so, what did it have to do with the singing of Billy's tribe?
My pulse was speeding as I searched the Internet for answers. When I found a YouTube video of the finale of Mahler's Eighth Symphony, the Chorus Mysticus, I clicked the play button.
A chorus of hundreds of celestial voices was singing exquisite music filled with light. I looked back at Billy's notes. “The only thing that exists for me is the chorus of mystical voices . . . welcoming me back, like in Mahler's Eighth.”
I went out on my deck and played Chorus Mysticus over and over. As I listened to the music, I was also somehow hearing the beauty of the voices from Billy's realm through my crown chakra. As the two choruses blended inside me, I spun off into a mystical realm somewhere between Billy's world and mine.
Billy's leading me to Mahler's Eighth Symphony was the cosmic crescendo of our communication, the supreme manifestation of Billy's world in mine.
After half an hour of this splendor, I began reading the lyrics of Chorus Mysticus moving across the video:
All that is temporary is merely an image
That which is unattainable
Here becomes possible
The indescribable
Here it takes place
The eternal-feminine
Draws us on high
Eternal eternal
How could this be? The words fit Billy's story as much as the music!
I learned that Chorus Mysticus, the finale to Mahler's Eighth, is played as Faust is welcomed into heaven. And although Faust lost his struggle with the devil, and although his journey had taken him far from what most people consider a spiritual life, in the end it was because of his struggle that the angels were able to carry his soul to heaven.
I could feel Billy smiling. My brother had brought me to this story to solve the most perplexing question I had about what was happening to him. How could Billy go to such a high place in the afterlife when the end of his life was full of darkness and despair? Like Faust, he lost his struggle with a powerful demon— his addictions. Now Billy was letting me know it was okay that he struggled; it was a Divine struggle.
THIRTY-FOUR
Golden Lotus Cave
A few days later, still soaring from Mahler's Eighth Symphony, I re-read Billy's last set of notes. Hotep? What was that?
Once again, Billy had transmitted a word I'd never heard of but which had ancient historical meaning. Hotep, it turns out, is the first word of The Ancient Egyptian Offering Formula, a blessing bestowed upon the deceased in the afterlife. Hotep prepares the soul to partake of the divine nectar of the gods.
Unable to sleep as the full moon lit up the dark world, I stepped out into the night air to find Billy waiting.
As the voices of my tribe faded and my vision returned, I was surprised to find that instead of being led into the White Building I was standing in a field of red and purple roses. But Annie, you've never seen roses like these. The neon-bright flower blooms are ten times bigger than the ones you have on earth, and they're so alive you can actually see them growing.
For the first time since I met her, Shvara Lohana isn't with me. I'm okay with that, though, because I hear her singing from across the rose field. There's some kind of dew falling on the flowers and also on me. We're being bathed in the mystical perfume of my Goddess. The roses look like they're dancing as their petals open wider to take in her fragrance. I probably also look like I'm dancing as I follow Shvara's voice through the glistening field.
Up ahead, I notice a golden dome of light. As I get closer, I see that it's a cave. Pictures of blossoms are carved around the gilded entrance, through which I can see my Goddess waiting for me inside.
Shvara is floating above a circle of golden lotus buds that sit on a quiet pond. True to her female nature, the love of my eternal life has changed her outfit. She's wearing a golden gown, sheer enough for me to see a hint of her body underneath. I'll never get used to her presence or her beauty. Her half-closed eyes make her look dreamy and seductive. If I didn't know better, I'd say she's flirting with me.
Once inside the cave, I'm so intoxicated by Shvara's sacred perfume I have to lie down. Up close I can see that instead of water the lotus pond is filled with milky nectar.
Shvara Lohana's eyes spring wide open and she begins a sacred dance. She turns slowly, and when she circles back, she's holding a violet flame. Her hips sway back and forth and sparks fly as the fire flows from one hand to the other. Each movement of Shvara's body satisfies a longing so much a part of me I didn't even know it existed. As my Goddess dances, there is no pleasure in the Universe that remains unknown to me, or unfulfilled.
Shvara swoops down and chants something over each lotus bud. Eight golden flowers open one by one. At the heart of each blossom is a flame of some shade of purple or red. These are the flames of my past lives.
People on earth are curious about their past lives. They want to know who they were, what they did, and who they did it with. I'm content just to watch the flames of my lives illuminate the golden petals of their lotus flowers.
Shvara flies to the center of the circle of flowers, and with her ruby mouth pressed against the milky water, she chants:
The bigger the lotus
The deeper the mud
he bigger the lotus
The deeper the mud
A solitary bud, bigger than the others, rises from down inside the pond. I'm surprised. This bud is covered with mud. I haven't seen dirt of any kind on this side of things. The muddy flower quivers and blooms in the golden light of the cave. As Shvara pours the violet flame of my last life into its heart, the muddy crust evaporates. The petals of all the lotuses start moving like speeded-up hummingbird wings. They swirl and collide and become pure flashes of energy as the golden flowers of my lives blow apart. I am witnessing the ceremony that will end the cycle of my being born.
Shvara rises from the smoky explosion, gorgeous as ever. She offers me a cup filled with the milky nectar of the pond. It tastes so unfamiliar it's difficult to drink. It's sweet but surprisingly pungent. You could never drink this elixir if you weren't ready. I am barely ready, but I drink.
As the smoke cloud reaches the top of the cave, it forms a golden dragon with fiery eyes. He's fierce, but I'm not at all afraid. The dragon's devotion to me is obvious. He's my dragon the way Shvara is my Goddess.
> My dragon has served me through my many lives. My protector came to me in different forms: a beloved pet, an unexpected stroke of luck, the kind act of a stranger, a chance meeting that brought good fortune, the friend who showed up when I needed one—these were expressions of his devotion.
I feel such profound gratitude I want to honor him in some way. I pour the nectar from the cup into my hand and offer it. As my dragon drinks, I am overcome by a longing. This moment is one I would like to hold onto.
My faithful dragon bows his head, touches his forehead to mine, and in a wild selfless act of courage he breaks open the cave and destroys it with his power. Then my dragon disappears like rising smoke.
I am now standing before the great emptiness of the Absolute. I am ready to enter the Void.
But, before I go on, I want to tell you this:
Life is a Divine mysterious impulse to be tasted and then released. Although everything in your life is destined to change, I wish that the sweetness of the celestial elixir you and I have shared will forever remain on your lips.
I took on form to enter time. I entered time to partake in creation. Since my destination is no longer the earthly realms, I will now enter the great Void and travel beyond time.
Shvara takes my hand and we ascend through profound darkness. As my Goddess lets go, I'm propelled into the Void. I am going beyond creation—before the manifest—outside of time. I am entering a world of nonexistence—no light, no sound, no beingness. I have tasted the elixir and there is no fear.
This dark passage is leading me away from the earthly world and all the levels of the afterlife that I have traveled through. I am going from somewhere to somewhere else and I will never return.
I am becoming the Allness in the Nothing.
The raindrop is returning to the ocean, but there is no ocean, there is nothingness. Do not be sad, for as I am nothingness, I am also everything: I am the Universe, I am light, I am Lohana, I am soul, I am a king, a drug addict, a saint, and a beggar.